


Of Halloween and Firewhiskey

by sunset_oasis



Series: The Postwar Halloween Party [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise & Pansy being besties, EWE, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Postwar AU, Postwar Halloween Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 02:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10584081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunset_oasis/pseuds/sunset_oasis
Summary: Pansy Parkinson showed up as an unexpected guest at Halloween Party at Grimmauld Place. Harry was ready to kick her out, but the others coerced him into giving her a chance, like they all did with Draco, Blaise, and Theo. Drunken Harry gave her a little more than that as the night goes on. Postwar Hansy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Pansy flipped through another page of _Witch Weekly_ , trying to distract herself with the contents of the magazine and doing her best to ignore her housemates’ conversation.  She felt some bitter anger surge through her as Draco talked eagerly about some couple costume he planned to wear to some Halloween party at Potter’s place, but Pansy ignored it as she firmly forced herself to continue reading the latest interview of the Weird Sisters.

“Pirate costume, really, Draco?” Theo raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Just you wait, I’m going to going to look super hot in it,” Draco said with his usual amount of arrogance.

“Darling, I _always_ think you look super hot,” Blaise chimed in, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Draco.

“Awww, that’s so _sweet_ of you,” Draco cooed, batting his eyelashes at Blaise.  Pansy couldn’t help but roll her eyes even though she was supposed to be ignoring them and focusing on the hot picture of Weird Sisters sexy, dark-haired bassist, Donaghan Tremlett.  She could never understand why the two enjoyed flirting with each other despite neither of them were actually interested in each other romantically – Draco was straight and while Blaise wasn’t, he wasn’t interested in blonds anyway. They even did it in front of Draco’s Gryffindor girlfriend, and she seemed to never mind it either.

“Well, Luna has a book about various languages around the world and I remember she said there’s a chapter about how pirates talk,” Theo grinned. “I can ask her about it for you, and then you and your lovely girlfriend can sound like a pair of authentic pirates.”

“And what are you two going as?”

Pansy heard Draco asked the other two, and she finally couldn’t control her annoyance as she raised her head sharply and blurted out, “What, you’re _all_ going?”

The three boys turned to look at her.  A brief silence fell between them as Theo broke it with a tentative, “Uh … yes?”

Pansy sneered, “To a Halloween party at _Potter_ ’s place.  A party full of _war heroes_.”

“And heroines,” Draco added automatically, and Pansy glared at him.

Blaise snickered, “I see a _heroine_ is rubbing off you.”

“Just earlier in the broom closet, yeah,” Draco smirked back at him, winking.

Pansy decided that she had had enough. She stood up abruptly and headed towards the Slytherin girls’ dorm, annoyed at her friends’ eagerness to bond with Gryffindors.  Deep down, she knew she was just bitter and a little jealous that all her friends seemed to become friends – or even something more – with all the DA students.  The people on the _right_ side of the war.  She couldn’t help but be envious that it seemed so _easy_ for them and she was still the hated by the rest of the school because of something she had blurted out in fear.

Of course, she knew it was a little unfair to say it had been all _easy_ for all her Slytherin friends, since it had taken them some efforts and time to make peace with the Gryffindors too, she knew that – but that didn’t stop her bitterness.

As she prepared to enter the girls’ dorm, she felt someone grab her arm and she jerked her head around aggressively and glared at Blaise, annoyed that she hadn’t heard him approaching. “Make some noise when you move, can’t you?” Pansy snapped.

He raised an eyebrow at her and drawled, “We don’t all stomp around when walking – some of us are elegant.”

She opened her mouth to retort something but he didn’t give her the chance to as he continued smoothly, “If you want to come to the party too, I can bring you as a date.”

“I never said I _want_ to,” she said, a little too fast and a little too sharply.  Seriously, _what_ was he suggesting?  Like she’d be interested in playing nice with _Potter and Co._ and seeing everyone else being sickeningly sweet with their boyfriend or girlfriend and she had no one and could only go with a gay friend because he _pitied_ her or something – she didn’t need _anyone’s_ pity and she didn’t want to get along with _Potter_ and his merry sidekicks and she didn’t want to fathom why the name _Potter_ kept popping up while she ranted in her head and –

“You can come watch me beat the Weasel in chess,” he offered, a glint in his eyes that she couldn’t really fathom, catching her off guard.

“What?”

“Remember when the Weaselette sent an owl to Draco before their date at Three Broomsticks two weeks back, saying her overprotective big brother insisted on tagging along?” He asked.  At her nod, he continued, “So Draco gave me the difficult task of distracting the said brother. There was a chess set there so I asked him if he wanted to play, and, well, _obviously_ I was a bit not focusing so much on the game that day or else he couldn’t have won.  But anyway, we agreed to play again some time.”

She gaped at him for a moment and thought about refusing his offer again but changed her mind.  Maybe it’d be a little interesting after all.  If Blaise lost again, she’d be able to tease him about losing to a Gryffindor twice in a row … “Even if I do want to watch that, I’m not sure if they’ll let me into the party,” she finally said.

“Don’t worry too much, it’ll be fine,” he said easily. “Oh, and get something fancy to wear and you’ll be able to make yourself the _second_ most eye-catching person of the party.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and decided not to ask the obvious question to satisfy Blaise’s vainness.

 

* * *

 

Despite her agreeing to going to the party that day, Pansy began regretting as Halloween drew nearer and nearer.  Now, it was 2 hours away from the party at Potter’s place and she looked at her black dress and suddenly felt like running away from everything.

 _Why_ had she agreed to go?

“I like that dress, very pretty and gothic style,” Pansy heard a cheerful voice behind her.  She whipped around and found herself face to face with Ginny Weasley in pirate costume.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

“Draco said to check on you,” she shrugged. “Need any help?”

“Yeah,” Pansy sniffed, “help me tell them that I’ve decided not to go.”

“Come on, we’re not going to eat you if you come to the party,” Ginny laughed.

“Yeah, right.  You people hate me.”

Ginny’s face grew serious and Pansy thought it provided a comical contrast to her pirate costume but didn’t comment on it. The Gryffindor girl said, “No. We’re not the best of friends but I don’t hate you. And neither do the others … mostly, anyway.  The war wasn’t easy on anyone but it’s the past now, we didn’t fight a war to continue holding the grudges.”

Pansy huffed, “Easy to say but way too idealistic.  And you’re dating Draco so your opinion on the Slytherins – or on me – probably differs from most anyway.”

“Then the more important to come out and socialize with us and change other people’s views, right?” Ginny said reasonably, walking over to pick up the gothic style dress. “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

 

* * *

 

Harry and Ron were chatting in the now decorated nicely living room of Grimmald Place.  And they had also, with Kreacher’s help and Hermione’s extensive research, managed to find a way to place a permanent silencing charm on Walburga’s portrait.  Harry frowned at Ron who’s pushing the pieces of a chessboard back and forth in experiment as they chatted. “I know you love chess but you seem extra keen recently.”

“Got to be prepared,” Ron laughed. “Zabini’s been sour about losing last time and he’s definitely going to challenge me to another game tonight.  I won’t admit it if you repeat this but – he’s good at it, for someone who doesn’t play often.  I’m pretty certain I’m going to win again but, still, doesn’t hurt to practice more.”

It felt surreal, to hear Ron talking about a Slytherin in a non-hostile manner.  It was strange enough to see Ginny dating Draco Malfoy, and it did take some getting used to, but when even _Ron_ , the Ron who had seemed to loathe the Slytherins as much as he did, started getting along with Malfoy and Zabini – Harry still couldn’t wrap his mind around that.  Of course, he sort of understand that the Slytherins suffered from the war, too, in their own way – but understanding was one thing, going out of his way to become chummy with the Slytherins was another thing. _Totally different_.

The fireplace flared up and Percy and Hermione stepped through the floo.

“You two really are the most punctual couple ever,” Ron grinned as Kreacher hurried forward to offer them some water.

“Hi, Mione, Percy,” Harry greeted them.

“Hi guys – and thank you so much, Kreacher,” Hermione said as she took the water offered by Kreacher. “Have these two been treating you well?”

Harry didn’t hear Kreacher’s response as the fireplace lit up again and another few people stepped through.  Ginny and Malfoy in pirate costumes made him stare for a moment, and Luna and Nott’s matching thestral shirts and leather pants – blimey, Luna in leather pants was really something – surprised him a little. But what shocked him the most was the third pair – though he paid no attention to Zabini as his eyes landed on the girl beside him, and Harry felt his jawed tightened.

“What’s _she_ doing here?” Harry gritted his teeth and asked in a low voice.  But everyone heard anyway and the room suddenly turned dead quiet.

“What lovely way to greet the guests, how _polite_ ,” Pansy Parkinson sneered at him.

“Pans,” Harry heard Malfoy hiss.

“Shut up, pirate boy,” Parkinson snapped at Malfoy.

Harry had known that Malfoy would be coming, and he did know Nott was dating Luna, and Zabini had this chess competition going on with Ron that he didn’t really understand but at least he knew beforehand.  Nobody prepared him for _this_. Nobody prepared him for Pansy Parkinson.

While he still wasn’t overly fond of the Slytherins, he still found the rest of them to be slightly more tolerable than the Queen bitch of Slytherin.  Ginny would hex him if he had any judgmental comment about Malfoy, and besides that Harry sort of understood how difficult Malfoy’s life had been after knowing about Voldemort staying at his house.  And he simply wasn’t familiar enough and didn’t know much about Zabini and Nott.

But Pansy Parkinson he knew.  He knew she’d always been hostile and less than friendly throughout the school years, gossiping about him and his friends to reporters. Well, Malfoy had, too.  But Malfoy’s suffering during the past two years sort of balanced things out in Harry’s mind.  Pansy Parkinson hadn’t got a maniac living in her house, nor had she been given any hard tasks.  In fact, the last year she’d been at the top of the food chain in this school, being a Slytherin under the Death Eater’s regime.

Oh yeah, _and_ she’d proposed to hand him over to Voldemort.

While the other Slytherins were tolerable (to some extent), Harry _hated_ Pansy Parkinson.  What made things even worse was that a part of him actually found her good-looking in that dress of hers, damn that woman. To suppress that irrational and stupid part of him that was surely misguided, the other parts of his brain apparently decided to bring up more hate and hostility.  “Decided to invite yourself, huh?” Harry sneered back at her.

“Actually, _I_ invited her,” Zabini drawled, wrapping a protective arm around her which Harry found mildly disturbing in an unexplainable way. “Nobody told me I’m not allowed to bring a date.”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Harry muttered.

“Harry,” Ginny snapped, stepping towards him, “stop acting like a child.  You probably won’t stop him bringing a date if it’s anyone else he brought, it’s really just your childish hostility against her—”

“So what if I have hostility against her?  I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me,” Harry narrowed his eyes at Ginny. “And it’s not childish.  Have you forgotten that she had—”

“Trying to save the world by handing you over?” Zabini suggested, raising an eyebrow. “Just like what you did – trying to save the world by handing yourself over.  You two are not that different after all, you make a good team – OW.” He winced as Parkinson kicked his left leg.

Luna said in a bright and cheerful tone, “If you’re making her leave, I’m afraid that Ginny and I would be leaving too.”

Harry paused and stared at Luna incredulously, but she just smiled back at him.  Nott bit back a snicker and gave Luna a kiss on the forehead.

Harry glanced around, and realized he was quickly being outnumbered. Hermione was looking at Luna approvingly, and even Ron didn’t seem want to stick up for Harry’s decision in throwing Parkinson out, and Ginny’s eyes flashed dangerously at him.  Percy was frowning at Harry.  The Slytherin boys all looked murderous.

Luna was still smiling serenely.  It sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.

He chanced another glance at Parkinson, who stared back defiantly with a sneer, and she seemed to be the only person who might agree with her leaving – her expression clearly told him she didn’t want to be here in the first place.

Well, that made it the two of them … at least he knew she wouldn’t feel comfortable at this party anyway … it was finally the thought that made him agree to her staying. “ _Fine_. Stay then.”

 

* * *

 

“I thought it’s common courtesy not to assault one’s date,” Blaise grumbled.

“And _I_ thought it’s common courtesy not to compare one’s date with a dimwitted Gryffindor,” Pansy sneered.

“Touché,” he smirked. “Come on, I promised to let you watch me slay the Weasel at Wizard’s Chess, let’s go find him.”

“I hope you lose,” she muttered.

“You hurt my feelings, Pans,” Blaise sighed dramatically.

“ _So_ sorry – I didn’t know you have them.”

 

* * *

 

Pansy watched for a while as Blaise and Ron Weasley battled in Wizard’s Chess.  Ron seemed slightly apologetic about Harry and said that the few months after the war hadn’t been easy for Harry, so he was a bit stressed.  Pansy hummed but said nothing.  Blaise tried to change to a more cheerful topic and brought up Quidditch, and Pansy just tuned him out as her eyes travelled around the room now surrounded by various ex-DA members.  Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbot were dancing and in Pansy’s opinion, he was still as clumsy as ever.  Draco and the Weaselette were chatting with Luna about pirate language by the chocolate fountain, while Theo seemed to be discussing politics with Granger and Percy Weasley in a far ended corner of the room.

And Potter seemed to be drinking firewhiskey near the refreshments area alone.  Pansy sincerely hoped he was enjoying the party as less as she was.  Well, since she was here, she might as well go make that insufferable Gryffindor as miserable as her – “I’m going to get some drinks,” she told Blaise and Weasley.

“Go ahead,” Weasley replied, not raising his head as he studied the chessboard.

“Pansy,” Blaise frowned at her shrewdly, “you’re not thinking of –”

“Don’t worry your pretty head over this, Blaisey darling,” she said lazily. “Oh, and do me a favor, Weasel, beat him so I don’t have to listen to him brag in the common room.”

“Sure, that I can do,” Weasley grinned. 

 

* * *

 

Pansy saw Potter tensed up as she approached the drinks, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you doing?”

“Getting a drink,” she smirked at him, feeling a deep satisfaction in riling him up. “Or am I just allowed to stay at the party and not allowed to have the refreshments?”

He glared at her and said sarcastically, “Oh, _go ahead_ , I couldn’t imagine of depriving you the _refreshments_. 

“How very gracious, Potter,” she murmured, helping herself to a glass of firewhiskey.

He sneered at her but didn’t say anything.  She took a sip of the firewhiskey, enjoying it as it burned her throat in a delicious way.  They both drank in silence for a while, neither trying to make any conversation. 

After a few more glasses, Potter staggered a little, alarming Pansy.  She realized that she was probably more than a bit drunk too if she’d chosen to reach out a hand and grab him to stop him from falling over, and she tried to withdraw her hand the moment she realized that but it was too late. 

Potter seemed equally surprised at her action as she did, and he also shuddered as if he’d been burnt.

“Go sit down, Potter, you’re drunk,” Pansy snapped harshly, trying to cover up for her action.

“You must be pretty drunk too if you’re willing to touch me,” he said, a bit groggily.

“No argument there, I don’t usually do something so _repulsive_ when I’m awake,” she snarked.

“Believe me,” he twisted his mouth, “I felt as repulsed as you did.”

“Good to know,” she laughed sharply. “Now go sit down before I need to do something that repulsive again.”

 

* * *

 

 _‘I felt as repulsed as you did’_ – except that he didn’t.  It was a lie.  Surprised, yes, but, surprisingly, not repulsed.  Her touch was softer than he’d imagine, softer than a hard-skinned snake like her should have, and he liked it more than he should have.

Though, it was probably the firewhiskey speaking.

At this close distance, Harry couldn’t help but study Pansy Parkinson closely.  Her dark hair that curved up at the just above the shoulder, long enough to be sexy but short enough to remind him that she was probably smarter than him.  Her angled facial features that wasn’t exactly what he’d call good looking, but there was definitely something about it that intrigued him.  Her slender arms and legs and that gothic dress of hers –

“See something you like, Potter?” she sneered at him, instantly reminding him of why he loathed her.

“You wish,” he bit back.

“Ha, I don’t need _your_ appreciation,” she snorted. “Unlike most people, I don’t bow at the Chosen One’s feet or craved for your approval.  And I’m sure you’ve got enough admirers anyway.”

Harry stilled.  He was pretty sure that while she was honest about this, she was also saying it mostly to rile him up.  But somehow, it struck a nerve.  He did have quite a lot of admirers which he found annoying and he also knew a lot of girls who would fawn over his The-Boy-Who-Lived status, which he hated.

Parkinson glanced at him shrewdly and laughed. “Aha, so you don’t like it.  Poor Potter,” she smirked, “your life must be so difficult, full of mindless admirers you don’t want, praising you over your _achievements_. So difficult. I bet it’s not something people like me can imagine – after all, I only get hate for trying to hand you over to a psychopath.  Gosh, over-energetic fans – how could I compare to your pain, right?”

“Shut up,” Harry snapped instinctively, hating the way she see through him that easily when she had _absolutely_ no right to do so. “You don’t understand _anything_ —”

“Yeah, that’s just what I’m _saying_ —” amusement rang in her voice.

“Shut. Up.” Harry gritted his teeth.  He knew part of the reason he didn’t want to hear about her own treatment from the media and masses was because he understood what it felt to be distrusted by the public too – thanks to the old Ministry and Rita Skeeter – and he understood her.  And he _didn’t_ want to.  He didn’t want to sympathize with her, the Slytherin girl who’d always been nasty to him, who’d done nothing for the Light Side, who’d only ever thought of preserving her own skin.  He didn’t want to admit that he and _Pansy Parkinson_ did share some similar experience in some aspect.

Zabini’s earlier words rang in his head, ‘ _You two are not that different after all._ ’  Even though Zabini was an arrogant arsehole who was good at playing with words, and Harry had scoffed at his logic at that time, Harry couldn’t deny that in some way, it was _scaringly_ , _eerily_ true.

Then again, he could always blame his current strange thoughts on the firewhiskey.

 

* * *

 

Pansy wasn’t sure when exactly had her original goal – to rile Potter up, to make him enjoy the party as less as she did – suddenly lost its fun.  Sure, it’d been amusing at first, but while she had been expecting him to fight back, to argue with her, to tell her to shut up – she hadn’t expected the vulnerability he was displaying.  It wasn’t super obvious as he covered it well with snappish and defensive words, but Pansy realized it anyway.

After all, it wasn’t as if she was not familiar with the technique herself.  In fact, she was a master of it – snark and sarcasm and sharp words had always been an easy way for her to hide her _own_ vulnerability at times.  It was a good façade, most people wouldn’t see through how she was breaking down underneath.

Merlin, had she just admitted to herself of having something in common with Potter?  She snorted derisively and decided it must be Blaise’s fault – how dare that idiot put the preposterous idea of her and Potter not being so different into her head?  ‘ _You two are not that different after all._ ’  Gosh, she was _so_ going to kick Blaise’s arse later, that pretentious, irritating wanker.

 _‘That pretentious, irritating wanker who is usually right when he made an observation about people, even when he’s just being witty,’_ a small voice added inside her head.  Pansy ignored it.

 

* * *

 

They finally did go find some chairs to sit down, but they also drank more firewhiskey.  And they talked.  It wasn’t what either of them had envisioned to happen earlier this evening, but still, they chatted.  They interacted.  Perhaps because everyone else seemed to be enjoying the party and they were the only two miserable souls without someone to have fun with.  Perhaps because in some way they understood each other, even if they didn’t want to.  Still, they only both understood partial parts about the other and remained scathing about most other parts.

But the partial parts they understood were enough to make both of them uncomfortable and provoked their original views of each other.  Neither of them enjoyed that because it was basically admitting what they previously thought about each other had been _wrong_.

Somewhere in their half-drunken, miserable conversation, Harry admitted, “You’re … not what I previously thought.”

“Previously _imagined_ ,” Pansy corrected haughtily. “You don’t know me at all.”

He shrugged lightly, “It wasn’t as if _you_ know me.”

“Really? Out of the two of us, _you_ ’re the one who got their whole life’s achievements listed in the Prophet,” she smirked.

He narrowed his eyes, then smirked back, “I didn’t know you follow the news about me, Parkinson.  I have to say, I’m a bit disappointed – you did claim you’re not one of my ‘ _mindless admirers_ ’, after all.”

Damn, since when did _Potter_ get so sassy?  Wasn’t that supposed to be the Slytherin specialty? “Very funny, Potter,” she snorted. “I only read them for entertainment.”

“So my tragic life is your entertainment?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” she took another sip of the firewhiskey. “I should thank you, my mornings would be so dull without your life stories to read.”

He laughed at that, surprising her and himself.  She was constantly snarky towards him, but somewhere in the conversation something shifted and his irritation of her turned into amusement.  Though he still found her too sharp and biting at times, he also, in a strange way, sort of liked some snarky banter with this girl.

Not many people talked to him like that.  Hermione was nice and funny and Ginny was straightforward and neither of them were afraid of telling him off, but Pansy was … somewhat different from either of them.  And she certainly was no Romilda Vane or fans who would fawn over his fame.

They hated each other but still saw through each other in some way, they argued and threw sarcastic, biting comments at each other but there was something strangely comforting for him, knowing that someone outside of his friend’s circle still thought of him (and disliked him) as just himself rather than some celebrity.

She watched him as he laughed, and suddenly felt like he was more real than she’d ever felt before.  Before, he’d just symbolized a concept she hated, a naïve Gryffindor who knew nothing about the Slytherin subtlety nor survival, a part of the reason of why the public hated her – after all, she _had_ proposed to hand him over – but now, sitting together with him and drinking firewhiskey and exchanging snappy comments with him, she felt like she was seeing him in a different light for the first time.

As she saw he hide his more vulnerable side under defensive words like she always did, as she heard him laugh, as she realized that even Gryffindors could have a little sassiness in them sometimes – Harry Potter was no longer just a faraway concept of a stupid celebrity she hated or just part of the reason why she was condemned by the public.  He was … just like any normal person.  Someone real.  Someone with vulnerabilities and defense mechanisms and sarcasm.  Someone, to an extent, that she could understand, could relate to.

‘ _Life doesn’t get stranger than this_ ,’ Pansy thought.

“To be honest, you’re not that bad, for a celebrity savior who made into the news every week,” she didn’t know what prompted her to say it, but it just rolled of her tongue.

“A compliment from _you_?  I’m _blushing_ ,” he said sardonically.

“I said, for a celebrity savior,” she shrugged, “still annoying and stupid and super-Gryffindorish by normal standards.”

“The last one isn’t exactly an insult,” he pointed out.

“Coming from me, it most definitely is,” she assured him.

He scrutinized her and said easily, “Well, nice to have someone who doesn’t hold me to the celebrity standards.”

“So _glad_ to be of help,” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Anything else you need from me too, O’ Saint Potter?”  Then she leant close towards him, pretending to be in awe of him.

He was supposed to laugh at the joke and tell her to piss off, but when she was just inches away from him, her angled yet pretty facial features so close and he could smell her perfume – sharp and sour, perhaps lemon – he forgot all about their exchange of sarcastic comments and before he could stop himself, he kissed her.

And it felt so _morally wrong_ but also so _satisfyingly right_. 

She was clearly surprised but she didn’t push him away, and soon she started kissing back. Their tongues entwined and the firewhiskey taste from both of their mouths melded together and he could smell her lemon perfume and she could taste the treacle tart he had eaten earlier.

Then they finally pulled away and stared at each other, for once lacking of witty remarks to say.

“I …” Harry began hesitantly and stopped.

“Well, that _wasn’t_ what I was expecting when I asked what you wanted,” she drawled. “Though you’re not a bad kisser though, Saint Potter – whether by celebrity standards or normal people standards.”

He paused for a moment before asking, “Have you kissed any celebrities before?”

That tricked a laugh out of her, “No.”

“This is … so fucking _surreal_ ,” he finally managed to say, before adding, “you’re not a bad kisser yourself.  For a Slytherin.  Well, not that I’ve kissed any Slytherin before.”

She laughed and raised her glass, “A toast to both our firsts then.”

He decided that surreal didn’t even _begin_ to describe this, and raised his glass also. “Yeah. To our firsts … and would you like a second one?”

She raised an eyebrow in surprised, eyed him up and down, before shrugging elegantly with a smirk, “As long as it’s not the last?”

“That, I can promise,” he said breathily, before leaning towards her and pressing his lips on hers again.

It definitely wasn’t the last one.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: ff-sunset-oasis.tumblr.com


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